


oh your touch, so bittersweet

by soleilouis



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M, liam is barely in this i'm sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-12
Updated: 2013-12-12
Packaged: 2018-01-04 10:13:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1079758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soleilouis/pseuds/soleilouis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>louis meets harry in a tattoo shop.</p>
            </blockquote>





	oh your touch, so bittersweet

**Author's Note:**

> /o\ whoops? thank you to my incredible baba [chelsea](http://www.carryonsunshine.tumblr.com), for looking this over and listening to me whine ♥ owe you lots. my other baba [kirra](http://www.punkasslouis.tumblr.com) is also deserving of thanks for listening to me whine. they're the best, seriously.
> 
> i don't know one direction, i'm not at all british, all mistakes are my own, etc etc. slight warning for pain kink if you squint (but you may not have to squint too hard).  
> title from ellie goulding's bittersweet.

The boy’s fucking beautiful, is the thing.

Louis can’t keep his eyes off of him, can’t stop himself from letting his eyes roam to the other side of the room where the boy is sitting, the buzz of the needles drowning out any chance of Louis overhearing the conversation he’s having with the artist beside him. He’s tall, Louis can tell by the way his feet - god, they’re huge - are hanging off of the edge of the chair, and that alone makes a jolt of electricity shoot through Louis’ skin. He’s felt sixteen years old for the last hour, staring at this boy like a lovesick puppy, and it’s really just fine. It’s something he has complete and total control over, probably. He only feels slightly ridiculous, so there’s that.

“Y’alright, man?” Zayn says quietly near his ear. He wipes the ink from Louis’ arm, bringing the attention back to what Louis should probably be focusing on. Right.  When there are unearthly gorgeous humans in the same room it’s apparently hard to let your mind stop on less important things, like the permanent inking of your skin.

“Yeah, bro, you know me. Used to it,” he says with a smirk, lifting a water bottle to his lips and taking a long sip. He’s so thirsty, like he could drink ten bottles of water and still feel like he’s put cotton balls in his mouth. There is something else he wants to be drinking in at the moment, though. Something like pale skin and green eyes, maybe.

Zayn gives him a genuine smile before letting his eyes drop to Louis’ arm again. “Looks sick so far, yeah?” Zayn asks nervously, rolling backwards in his chair to grab a new color from the cabinet. His smile is so wide that Louis thinks his cheeks surely must hurt, but he decides to refrain from a smart ass comment. Honestly, it’s good to see Zayn like this, in his element. It’s cheesy, Louis thinks, to call this Zayn’s element and use cliche phrases like “right where he belongs”, but there is truly no other way to describe it. He’s never let anyone else come near him with a needle besides Zayn and probably never will as long as he keeps his bitching to a minimum and doesn’t bring murder upon himself at the hands of his best mate. It’s been ten years of friendship (Louis met him when older kids were picking on him in primary, and Niall beat the shit out of them. After that, Zayn became the newest member of their tight-knit group), and even 4 years of living right across the hall from each other, so. If murder were an option, Louis thinks it probably would have happened by now.

“Fucking brilliant,” Louis says after a moment.

Zayn constantly amazes him. If he’s honest, he’s a bit in awe of the ink that seems to be dancing across his skin when he finally takes a look at it for the first time in nearly half an hour. He moves his arm to the side a bit to get a closer look at the unfinished tattoo; it’s gorgeous, really, exactly what Louis envisioned and attempted to scribble onto Zayn’s notepad after five hits of a particularly large bowl they split two nights ago. The bird isn’t filled in with any of its shading yet, it’s just a lot of lines meeting together and light sweeps of black ink across his skin, but it’s absolutely gorgeous. Louis feels goosebumps on his skin at the thought of the finished product and also feels a familiar hint of something like arousal growing in the pit of his stomach. He squirms in his seat, placing a hand over his lap.

He’s used to this by now, he wasn’t lying to Zayn. The needle against his skin grounds him in ways that he can’t explain, makes his eyes flutter shut and his jeans feel tight. He noticed it the first time and chalked it up to nerves, but. It is definitely a thing. He doesn’t let himself think about it for very long.

“He’s fit,” Zayn says, a smile evident in his voice. The buzzing of the needle stops abruptly, Zayn leaning back in his seat and flicking the tattoo gun off. He yawns and raises an eyebrow at Louis, who turns his head away from where his eyes are locked on the curly haired boy across the room to look at Zayn and-. Oh.  Right. “Need a smoke anyway. Why don’t you go talk to him, lover boy?”

“Shut up,” Louis grumbles, swinging his legs off the chair and jumping to his feet. He stretches for a moment and adjusts himself in his jeans subtly before turning his back to Zayn and walking towards the refreshments area. (Louis had forced Zayn and Niall to set up a small table in the corner of the room to keep a cooler full of beer and soda, a box of doughnuts that Zayn picks up before every shift, and a bowl of candy - for customers with particularly long sessions, he had said. It’s mainly for Louis. He’s very appreciative.).

He’s sucking absentmindedly on a piece of butterscotch candy when someone walks up to the table, their arm brushing against Louis’. He startles a bit, having been lost in his own thoughts for who knows how long. When he looks up, he nearly chokes on the small piece of candy.

“Hi,” the boy from across the room - now standing too close and also not close enough - says, a small smile on his lips. He reaches into the candy bowl, his arm brushing against Louis’ again, and for a moment Louis wonders why pain isn’t sparking across his skin at the touch until he realizes that it’s the arm opposite the one being worked on. The mystery boy’s arm next to him is bare of ink as well, but the arm on the other side is absolutely covered in tattoos. Louis wants to find every speck of ink on his body. He’s looking at Louis like he isn’t a complete stranger in a tattoo shop at 1 am and, god, now he’s licking his lips, which is just fucking cruel. Louis gulps.

“Nobody eats the butterscotch candy,” Louis says in response to the casual greeting, because apparently he has no control of his mouth. Or brain. He smiles weakly. “Uh, usually. Nobody even knows this shit is over here.” He gestures at the table of snacks.

The boy quirks an eyebrow at him, his lips pouting adorably and that’s just, fuck. Okay. “ _He_ told me to take a break and get some candy.” He points at the chair he’d previously been sitting in, and Louis makes eye contact with Niall who is changing his gloves with a smirk on his face. Louis looks back to his own side of the room and sees Zayn watching Niall with a matching smirk, that turns into a look of guilt when he catches Louis watching him. Absolute bastards, his friends are.

“Right,” Louis says with a roll of his eyes. He sticks a hand in the space between their two bodies, feeling much too formal the second he does it. “‘m Louis. My three best friends own the shop. Niall-,” he points to the blonde sitting at the stool next to Harry’s chair, “He’s doing your piece, I guess. He’s my roommate. The other two, they share the flat across the hall.”

“Yeah, Niall was talking about you guys loads. I'm Harry,” the boy responds, giving Louis a toothy grin and shaking his hand. His grip is firm, and Louis can feel the rough calluses on his palm. He wants to know how they got there, what Harry likes to do that makes his hands feel like a worker’s. Wants to know how they’d feel against the small of his back, the back of his neck.

“How’s it going?” he asks conversationally, popping another piece of candy in his mouth while nodding his head at Harry’s arm in question.

“Good, yeah.” He lifts his elbow and turns his head to look at the back of his upper arm, smiling a bit at the tattoo, like he’s proud. It’s cute as hell, really, and Louis bites back a smile. The boy’s hair is curly and a bit of a mess, pushed away from his forehead in a floppy quiff with most of the side pieces sticking out in all directions. His eyes are green, so green, and his lips are the most sinful thing Louis has ever laid eyes on. He’s more gorgeous up close, which. That’s a problem. Louis feels fucked already and he’s exchanged less than thirty words with the kid.

“I’ve been excited about this piece for a while. My friend Ed drew it up for me, we’ve been mates forever. I didn’t even tell him I was getting it inked on me, just said I wanted to keep the drawing,” Harry says, laughing fondly.

“How cute,” Louis says in a sing-song voice, attempting to cover up the fact that he is completely serious. That is incredibly sweet, something that he would do himself for Zayn or Niall. The boy is nice on top of attractive, which is, like, the last thing Louis needs.  

“Yeah, I’m pretty cute,” Harry says, dramatically flipping his hair. Jesus Christ.

Louis groans and shoves at his shoulder, a playful gesture that makes Harry laugh. He normally doesn’t feel this comfortable with someone immediately; it’s usually all polite conversation and awkward nodding for at least the first two years of friendship for Louis. It’s nice, being able to talk to someone new without feeling like he’s walking on ice. Aside from the whole wanting to drop to his knees at any moment thing, though. That’s a bit like walking on thin ice, Louis thinks. Very, very thin ice.

“Well, are you going to show me?” Louis says, raising one eyebrow and smirking. He isn’t flirting, really. Not yet. He stands closer to Harry, pretending to peek around his body to get a glimpse at the tattoo. The boy is much taller, making Louis feel impossibly small standing next to him. Harry tuts and moves away from Louis swiftly, grabbing a handful of candy at the same time and holding it against his chest. He’s giggling, actually fucking giggling, and Louis wants to smash his head against the wall and push Harry up against it all in the same moment.

“Oh, c’mon,” Louis huffs. “You aren’t making a very good first impression. Thought we were gonna be mates,” he says, sticking out his lower lip in the best pout he can muster. Two can play the innocent game.

“Don’t play innocent,” Harry laughs, reading his mind, christ. “Niall’s been telling me all about the pranks his roommate pulls. Which is you, I know now. I gotta say, I’m pretty impressed.”

He puts a lollipop in his mouth and crosses his arms. His lips drag over the candy slowly before pulling it out of his mouth with a loud pop. Louis’ eyes follow the action. When he looks up, Harry is watching him with a smirk on his face. This is going horribly, as most things in Louis’ life tend to do.

“Yeah, well,” Louis says, letting knee his knock against the table’s edge. “Nobody’s an angel.”

“Especially not you. Apparently.”

Louis looks up to meet Harry’s eyes again, and god, if he isn’t fucked.  “Especially not me.”

“Me neither,” Louis is pretty sure he hears Harry say, but there’s also what feels like three tons of blood pumping in his ears right now so he clears his throat and asks, “What?”

Harry smirks and bites down on the lollipop still in his mouth, making Louis cringe. “Gotta get back over there. See you in a bit, Louis” he says before turning and making his way back to Niall.  

Louis stands at the table for a moment watching him walk away before shaking his head and grabbing a donut to take back to Zayn, despite the fact that he’s a horrible friend and complete wanker. Liam has left his office in the back to join Zayn's side now, his usual spot, and he makes grabby hands for the donut upon Louis' arrival. Karma, really.

"I'm pretty sure that was for me, Li," Zayn says, glaring at Liam while he turns his gun back on as Louis gets settled.

"But Louis gave it to _me_ ," Liam says around a large bite of donut. Zayn laughs quietly and lets Liam win, because he always does. It's just the way they work.

He jumps at the feeling of the needle back on his skin, biting the inside of his cheek to make himself relax. Louis definitely doesn’t have to go to the bathroom after a minute and readjust his dick in his jeans, he just really does not.

+

“We meet again, Curly,” Louis says quietly, hip checking Harry when he walks up next to him at the snack table a little over half an hour later.

Louis’ piece is done, finally, and he’s absolutely buzzing. His skin is on fire and it feels like if anyone so much as rubbed against him the right way he’d be more than halfway to hard. He loves it, fucking loves this feeling, of being so on edge after a long session with Zayn. If he had all the money in the world, and also enough things he wanted to permanently etch into his skin, he’d be here more often than he already is. Liam, who also handles the money for the small place, would certainly be pleased.

Harry turns to him after a moment, beer in hand. He’s different, Louis thinks, even though not much time has passed. Louis notices immediately. Before, he was bouncing off the walls, all smiles and wit, and now he looks about as blissed out as Louis feels. His pupils are so fucking blown, the apples of his cheeks a gorgeous, splotchy red. Louis wants to absolutely wreck him. “‘m all finished,” Harry says with a pleased smile, looking down at Louis and taking a drink of his beer.  

“Yeah?” Louis asks. “Y’alright, mate?”

Harry hums in response. “Makes me feel a bit weird after. ‘s nice, though,” he all but slurs. Louis understands.

He feels like they aren’t practically strangers in a tattoo shop, for a moment, like maybe Harry is another part of the group of friends he’s so accustomed to. It’s strange, to feel like that about someone you’ve only had a short conversation with, but this person is also very tall and handsome, and also apparently very nice. Sometimes it just clicks, maybe.

“You hungry?” he asks when Harry falls silent for a minute. “This always makes me fucking hungry.”

Harry laughs brightly, and, ah. There he is. “Starving, actually. Don’t have any food at my flat though,” he says, the pouty lip making a reappearance. Louis holds back a whimper, which he honestly deserves a trophy for.

“There’s a twenty-four hour diner that’s seriously right below my flat, down the road a bit. We could go grab a bite,” Louis suggests, nodding towards the door. That isn’t forward, slipping in the small detail that his flat is directly above the diner. His flat with a nice, plush bed and a drawer full of necessary items at their disposal should they decide to have an adult sleepover, by miraculous chance. It’s just a detail that made it’s way into the conversation, by luck. Pure luck.

“Do they have eggs?”

“What? Is that a serious question? Obviously,” Louis deadpans. “Do you really think I’d go to a diner without the most important breakfast staple?”

“Barely know you, mate. You could be an absolute nutter that hates eggs and all other delicious food.”

Louis looks at Harry as if he’s just shot him, because, honestly. He places a hand over his heart in mock horror. “Can’t believe you take me for that kind of man.”

Harry rolls his eyes and blushes. “Let’s go eat, then.”

+

“God,” Harry nearly moans around his mouthful of food, and this is the third time into breakfast (they decided on calling it breakfast, since it’s now nearly 2 o’clock in the morning and it is eggs and toast, after all) that Louis has almost needed to leave the table. He doesn’t know much about Harry, but he does know that he’s a goddamn tease if there ever was one.

He isn’t sure that this isn't just a waste of time, if both of them are too tired to even hang out much more after they stuff their faces with food, or if it’s stupid to be at a diner in the middle of the night with someone Louis barely knows. Niall said he knew Harry through some mutual friends, so he can’t be a serial killer, at least. Probably. Either way, they’re having a good time. Harry is charming, unbelievably so, and the conversation doesn’t feel forced or awkward, even when their waiter asks if their cheque will be together or seperate (“Together,” Harry had said - Louis thinks he’s probably just that nice). Anytime there’s a moment of silence, one of them picks right back up with a new topic. It’s refreshing, Louis thinks, this comfortable level of friendship with someone he’s just met. He tries not to question it.

“I don’t even know your last name, now that I think about it,” Harry says after he swallows, Louis’ eyes following the motion of his adam’s apple against his throat. “Or, I guess, really anything about you.”

“I’m an open book, young Harold,” Louis says airly, setting down his drink and leaning back against the cushioned booth. He’s so full - he knows he shouldn’t have eaten that last piece of toast. They have to walk up 4 flights of stairs to get to his apartment anyway. That is, if they go up to his apartment. Louis isn’t one to assume. If the way Harry has looked at him across the table throughout breakfast is any indication, though, it’s a pretty done deal.

Louis does like a challenge, though, so.

“You don’t even know for sure that I’m younger than you,” Harry pouts, and Louis has come to terms with the fact that if he’s going to be friends with Harry, or whatever, he’s going to see a lot of this sickeningly endearing pout.

“Ah, but I do. You’ve got quite a baby face,” he says with a laugh.

Harry glares at Louis, taking a particularly rough bite of his toast.

“‘s cute, though,” Louis continues. “You’ve got dimples and everything.” He leans forward to poke a finger in one of the dimples in question, laughing when Harry bats his hand away and squirms in his seat.

“Shut up,” Harry says, but he’s blushing, so Louis counts it as a win. “Okay, so go on. Tell me shit about yourself.”

“Well, that’s inviting.”

“Louis,” Harry sighs.

“Alright, alright.” Louis sits up a bit, laughing before immediately groaning at the feeling of the weight of food shifting in his stomach. He’s quite the company, usually, but he doesn’t think he’ll get to keep his reputation if he hurls on the table.

He clears his throat. “‘m 24. Dropped out of uni my second year, was going to be a big shot doctor or summat. Me and Niall have lived together since then, but we've been friends since we were kids. Met Zayn and Liam along the way and now we're all mates. They all work at the shop together and I work at my mum’s law firm as a paralegal assistant, something like that. It sucks, but it’s money, so.”

“Do you wear a suit?” Harry asks, and honestly, that’s all he is concerned about.

“Dress slacks and a button down, usually,” Louis answers with a raised eyebrow. “Alright, what about you?”

“Oh I work at a restaurant, I wear a uniform--”

“I meant--” Louis laughs, “Like, what about you, tell me about yourself.”

Harry puts a hand over his face for a moment before laughing and shaking his head. “I’m an idiot, as you know now. ‘m 22--”

“Knew you were a baby,” Louis interrupts.

Harry shushes him and continues, “And still in school, I guess. Took this term off because I don’t know what the bloody hell I’m doing. Been working at a restaurant in London for about a year, and it’s good enough cash to let me live in an apartment near there with my mate, Ed. Think I told you about him.”

“The one you got the tattoo for,” Louis smiles, remembering. “Which, by the way, you still haven’t shown me.”

“I will, though. Also it’s not, like, _for_ him,” Harry clarifies. “We’re just mates, best mates. And, hey, you haven’t shown me yours either.”

Both of their tattoos are bandaged and wrapped, have been for the last hour or so, and Louis shrugs. “All in good time, pet.” Harry hums his approval, and Louis continues. “Single, then?”

“Yep,” Harry responds, popping the end of the word exaggeratedly. “You?”

“Yeah, everyone in this town seems to be loved up.” He makes a face. “Or just, like, a right arse.”

“Not everyone,” Harry says, reaching for his glass and bringing it to his lips. He raises his eyebrows and nods towards Louis. “You aren’t. I’m not.”

“Indeed,” Louis says slowly, drawing it out and breaking eye contact with Harry momentarily to look at his plate, which has suddenly become insanely interesting.

The waiter comes with the cheque then, and Harry puts down enough cash for the bill and tip, setting the stack of paper underneath the napkin holder. So that it doesn’t blow away, he says.

“Yeah, careful. The breeze is really picking up in here,” Louis deadpans, rubbing his hands up and down his arms mockingly. They laugh together at that, Harry kicking him underneath the table. They fall into a comfortable silence for a few moments, Louis pulling out his phone to text zayn a quick “ _he’s sooooooo fit mate hope he lets me suck him off , keep ni at the shop or in ur apt for the night thx love u lots like jelly tots xoxoxo_ ”  before pocketing it again.

Zayn texts back, “ _get em tiger ; D but also keep it down yeh_ ”  a few minutes later, Louis sees once Harry has stepped off to go to the bathroom before they leave. He scrolls through his Twitter timeline for a bit, which is a slew of drunken Saturday night tweets. He favorites a few, particularly enjoying one from Niall that says he did “one of his favorite pieces yet” tonight. Louis smiles at the thought and stows the information away for later to tell Harry.

“Ready, then?” Harry says once he’s back at the table, looming over Louis and wiping his hands on his black jeans (which are incredibly tight, Louis notes).

They walk out of the diner, Louis waving at his favorite waiter, and then they’re met with the cold air, and also the realization that there's not one ounce of a plan. Louis has no idea what they’re doing, what Harry wants to do.

Harry yawns loudly, which. Louis guesses that he has his answer.

“You probably wanna head home, right? I didn’t mean to keep you out so late,” Louis says quickly, folding his arms over his chest and pulling his jacket tighter around himself. It’s so fucking cold.

“Wha--” Harry says on the end of his yawn before finishing and shaking his head. “No, tattoos just make me feel sort of, I don’t know, like I want to lie down and close my eyes for a bit.”

“So, sleep. That’s literally sleep.”

“No, Lou,” Harry laughs. “I’m seriously not tired at all. I work the night shift, like, every night. This is early for me. I just feel, like, lazy. Like my legs are jell-o and my brain is all fuzzy.”

He wobbles on his feet a bit to get his point across and Louis rolls his eyes, laughing. Harry is stupidly endearing, like a tiny fawn trying to walk.

Louis can see his breath, it’s so cold. Harry’s cheeks are rosy and his nose is bright red and Louis would quite like to kiss it, please. “We can go up to mine for a bit, then. I think we’ve established that neither of us are out looking to murder each other or anything. We can be lazy, watch a film. Or something.”

Harry smirks. Louis is completely transparent, then. What else is new.

“Yeah, sounds brill. I’ll text Ed.”

+

“s’ nice place,” Harry says, turning dramatically in a circle before dropping down onto the couch and propping his feet on the coffee table. He must second guess himself, though, because he takes his feet down slowly and starts removing his boots. Louis is completely and totally fond already.

“Yeah, ’s alright.”

“Isn’t Niall coming back tonight?” Harry asks once Louis settles on the couch next to him, two beers in hand.

He passes one to Harry and shakes his head. “Think he’s staying at Zayn and Liam’s tonight.”

Harry smirks again, an absolute shit eating grin at this point, and Louis is so fucked, honestly. He doesn’t say anything though, just matches the smirk on Harry’s lips and takes a long drink of his beer.

“Want to see my tattoo now?” Harry says, setting his beer on the coffee table. Louis was about to suggest a movie to put on, but he thinks that’s probably a lost cause anyway. Plus, he’d much rather do this. Very much a lot.

“Obviously,” Louis says excitedly, pulling his feet up and folding them under himself on the couch, and turning to face Harry completely. Harry takes the beer from Louis’ hands and sets it beside his own, then turns at the right angle to make sure his arm is in good view. He pulls back the bandage slowly, taking off the clear wrap first and letting it drop to the ground. When all of the bandage is finally off, Louis doesn’t think he can make words with his mouth. Not sure he knows what words even are, to be honest.

“Harry--” Louis says, although it sounds more like he’s choking on air than actually saying his name. He scoots closer to Harry’s side and eyes the tattoo closely. Harry squirms a bit, turning his head to look at Louis, gauging his reaction. Louis can tell that It’s important to him, to see what Louis thinks of it, so he’ll be damned if he holds anything back. “Christ, it’s fucking gorgeous. So goddamn nice, holy shit. Look at the the shading.”

Harry’s feet are still planted on the floor, his knees banging awkwardly against the coffee table. “Yeah?”

“God, yeah,” Louis breathes out. He isn’t just saying it to make Harry blush, it is seriously one of the nicest tattoos on one of the nicest arms Louis’ ever seen. It’s -- well, it’s a very large bird, for one thing. The tattoo has no color, but the shading and detail are absolutely brilliant - they’re two of Niall’s strongest skills and something Zayn praises him for literally every hour, on the hour. For good reason, Louis thinks as he admires Harry’s latest tattoo. It’s on the same side as the rest of his tattoos, covering most of the back of his upper arm, a large banner underneath the bird that says LOVE in a beautiful victorian lettering. It’s breathtaking.

Louis reaches out slowly, letting his fingertips barely graze the raised skin, tracing the black lines of the bird’s wings. He’s fucking mesmerized, is what he is, and Harry lets out a shuddery breath when he applies more pressure with his fingers. Louis looks up and, god, Harry’s eyes are closed, his bottom lip pulled between his teeth. “Oh, does it hurt? I’m sorry, I’m an idiot,” he rushes out, pulling back his hand like he’s been burned.

Harry grabs Louis’ hand gently, pulling it back to his arm. “Go on,” he says, his voice sounding a lot more hoarse than it did a few moments ago. Louis feels his stomach flip and his cock jump, his eyes zoning right back in on the tattoo after Harry gives him a reassuring nod. “Fuck,” he whispers.

“What about yours, Lou?” Harry says, smiling at Louis contently with heavy eyes. “Let’s see.”

“What?” Louis says, letting his hand drop slowly from Harry’s arm. “Oh, right. Actually--” he laughs, peeling off the wrap and bandage. “Great minds must think alike?”

Harry’s facing Louis while still sitting properly on the couch and patiently waits for Louis to finish unveiling his newest piece of art. His mouth opens slightly as he breathes out a small “oh”  once it’s exposed.

He reaches out and runs a hand tentatively across the black lines of Louis’ own bird. It’s much smaller than Harry’s, and lower on his arm. Harry’s bird is a portrait, really, while Louis’ bird is mid-flight, some sort of action shot. His wings are expanded and it looks like he’s set to fly clear up Louis’ arm. The black ink is a stark contrast to his tan skin, especially with the tattoo causing the skin directly around it to be red and a bit raised from shock. It doesn’t hurt, really, not unless someone were to push on it, but the feeling of Harry’s cool fingers against it is enough for Louis to let out a small whimper. Harry’s eyes shoot up to meet Louis’, and he stares at him for a moment before pouring his attention back into the tattoo on his arm. He smiles softly, and Louis literally wants to shove him back on the couch and kiss him breathless.

“So, uh--” Louis clears his throat because, fuck, he sounds out of breath. “You like it?”

“I love it, yeah,” Harry says, making eye contact with Louis again. “Fits you, y’know. It’s beautiful.”

Louis nods in thanks, not sure if Harry is complimenting just the tattoo or him in general, also not sure if he trusts himself to speak again, ever.

“Does it hurt?” Louis says, bringing his fingers back to Harry’s arm once Harry drops his hand back into his own lap. The air in the room is so hot, and this new air between them has got to be charged with some sort of electricity, Louis can physically feel it. He doesn’t know if Harry does too, but it’s fucking there. It’s only a matter of time before it sparks or bursts into flames, one of the two.

“A bit,” Harry says, gulping once before licking his lips and shaking his head when Louis pulls back slightly in question. “Go on, it’s alright.”

Louis looks at Harry and notices for the first time that Harry’s pupils are slightly dilated again, like they were back in the shop, and his lips are slick from the constant swipe of his tongue. It’s enough to make Louis moan obscenely, but he doesn’t, because he still has a tiny bit of self-control, damnit.

He touches each edge of the tattoo softly, humming as he traces his finger down the bird’s wing and to the love banner, moving across the letters one at a time. Harry whimpers, Louis is sure he hears it, and moves his hand to rest on Louis’ thigh. It’s a true feat to be noted that Louis doesn’t even flinch, acts like he doesn’t notice and that it is not a Big Deal, continuing to work his fingers over Harry’s skin. “So pretty,” he says soothingly, his voice low and a bit scratchy.

Harry definitely whimpers this time, moving his hand up Louis’ thigh and gripping his hip. It’s quick and Louis isn’t sure how he manages it, really, but Harry pulls Louis’ hip towards him so that Louis lifts himself up from the couch and swings a leg over Harry’s lap. He settles himself on Harry’s legs, giving an indignant little scoff when Harry smirks. “You think you’re so smooth, Curly.”

Harry laughs heartily, bringing up both hands to rest on Louis’ thighs. “I mean, yes, I do like to think so.”

Louis’ hand is still resting on Harry’s tattoo, and he takes two of his fingers and presses lightly on the edge of the love banner. Harry takes a sharp intake of breath before letting it out in a mix between a shuddery sigh and a filthy moan, and that’s just -- Louis is not here for that, not when Harry’s mouth isn’t touching any part of his skin.

So, he kisses Harry. It’s too hard and too much for a first kiss, probably, but Louis literally could not care less. Harry’s lips are warm and so soft, pressing against Louis’ immediately like he was waiting for this just as much as Louis was, which sends a spark of arousal though Louis. He bites Harry’s lower lip almost immediately, sucking it into his own mouth and making Harry groan quietly. “Don’t tease,” Harry whispers with a smirk, moving a hand to rest just above Louis’ ass.

And, no. Louis pulls back, an indignant look on his face. “Me. You’re telling me not to tease you. I swear to god, Harry--”

Louis cuts off when there is a pair of lips on his neck, which, okay. Fair point. Harry scrapes his teeth against the skin there, palming at Louis’ ass with both hands now and shifting his hips ever so slightly so that Louis feels like his head is spinning. Louis rocks his hips down to meet Harry’s movements in rhythm until both of them are panting into each other’s mouths like a couple of teenagers. It’s embarrassing, really, how hard Louis is already, and he’d feel bad about it if he couldn’t feel Harry’s dick straining against his jeans. It’s all a lot to handle.

Louis head is so foggy that he barely registers what’s happening when Harry grabs his hips and flips them so that Louis is sitting on the couch with his legs on either side of Harry’s hips. His legs feel like overdone noodles, hanging off the front of the couch. Harry presses his thumbs under the top of Louis’ jeans, pulling back enough to whisper, “Yeah?” into Louis’ mouth and then moving his hands to quickly unbutton them once Louis nods frantically. He hooks his thumbs in Louis’ belt loops and slides the jeans down his thighs, following the motion and sinking to his knees in front of the couch to pull them off Louis’ legs completely, laughing when they get stuck for what feels like thirty minutes on his ankles. Louis kicks his feet in frustration grumbling for Harry to hurry up, because honestly, it has been a very long night of looking and wanting and not enough touching and having.

Harry looks up at Louis then, licking his lips. “I really want to suck you off,” he says, like there’s nothing in the world that he wants to do more. “Please.”

Louis groans loudly at that, rolling his hips up to meet nothing but air. “You can’t just,” Louis breathes harshly, “say that, fuck, Harry.”

Louis had been waiting all night to get his mouth on Harry’s cock, but by all means, that can wait for another time. He is not one to deny a beautiful boy that, honestly, is looking at him like he’s the first drop of rain in a year long drought. Harry’s mouth turns up in a lopsided smile and he settles himself in between Louis’ legs, putting his hands on his thighs. He wastes no time, which Louis admires him for, mouthing at Louis’ dick through his briefs, making a real mess of things. After a minute, the fabric between his dick and Harry’s mouth is soaking wet, and Louis wants to rip his hair out. Trust Harry Styles to be a tease even when he’s practically begged to suck your cock.

“Harry--”, Louis pleads, unashamed. “Please.”

That must be the magic word that Harry was waiting for, because he groans and starts to peel off Louis’ underwear with one hand, dropping his other hand to palm at himself through his jeans. Louis hears the pop of a button and then a zipper, glad that Harry is at least alleviating some of the pressure. He’s even more glad when Harry finally shucks off Louis’ briefs, tossing them to the side and beginning to kiss up Louis’ thigh, pausing every couple of inches to bite softly at the skin there. Louis whimpers, shifting his hips up desperately.

“Patience,” Harry says against his skin.

Louis wants to tell Harry to go fuck himself, but the words get caught in his throat when Harry’s beautiful, incredible lips finally wrap around his dick. He sucks at the head for only a moment before taking him down almost completely in one swift motion, and Louis nearly loses it right then.

"Ah, fuck,” Louis groans. Harry hums around him, giving a feeling of vibration that makes Louis’ head spin. “Bed, I have a-- fuck, god, Harry.”

Harry releases Louis’ dick with a _pop_ , giving the head a few kitten licks while looking up at him with his piercing green eyes and, fuck, this won’t last.

“What was that?” Harry asks and, because he’s such a shit, fits his mouth around Louis and takes him down again before Louis can give a proper answer.

“I have a bed,” Louis says in between choppy breaths. “We can go to my, ah, my bed-- fuck, yeah, like that.” Louis reaches out and wraps a hand around Harry’s arm, and he feels close already. Harry’s tongue traces the underside of Louis’ cock like he can’t get enough, working up and down quickly now and using the hand not being used to palm himself to stroke the base. It’s wet and sloppy, exactly how Louis likes it, with spit running past Harry’s hand down to Louis’ balls, and delicious sounds coming from Harry’s mouth.

Harry pulls off and takes in a breath, licking his lips once before licking at Louis’ slit, moaning quietly and happily at the taste of the precome gathered there. “Sorry, love, I can’t wait.”

He’s literally going to be the death of Louis, and it’s only been a few hours. A good sign, if there ever was one.

Harry starts moving his tongue around the head in a circular motion before swallowing him down again, and Louis feels the familiar heat pooling in his stomach already, whimpering and gasping for air because there is literally not enough fucking air in this room.

“Harry, ‘m so close,” he grits out, moaning loudly when Harry’s nose nearly touches his stomach.

Harry pulls off and strokes Louis slowly a few times, swiping his thumb over the head of Louis’ cock each time. “Louis, fuck. Please,” he says before putting his mouth right back where Louis wants it. Harry’s got a hand completely in his own jeans now, Louis can see the way his arm is working to palm himself through his briefs, not quite doing anything but giving himself some relief from the pressure; Louis wishes he could do that, could reach and wrap a hand around him. Louis’ hand is wrapped lightly around Harry’s arm, careful not to grip too hard, cautious of his fresh tattoo.

His fingers are resting on the raised skin gently, and he presses down a bit when Harry does a particularly enjoyable thing with his tongue (Louis doesn’t even know how he does it, he tries to remember to ask him later), gripping his arm as an outlet not to come immediately. Harry pushes his arm into the touch, humming around a mouthful of Louis’ dick. Louis applies more pressure to Harry’s skin, letting his hips roll up slowly to meet Harry’s motions. Harry is moving so quickly with his mouth and hand that Louis thinks he’s going to black out, gripping Harry’s arm tightly for a moment, completely forgetting about the tattoo. Harry actually moans at the touch, jerking his hips forward, pulling off of Louis to breathe heavily and release a whine that makes Louis’ eyes roll back in his head.

“Oh my god, did you just co--” Louis asks, looking at Harry’s pink cheeks. “Fucking-- Harry, god that’s so fucking hot.” He bucks his hips up, and Harry just takes him back down, wraps his lips around his cock like it’s his first taste, still so eager.

Harry takes him down one, two, three more times before Louis is tugging at Harry’s hair in warning and coming down his throat, moaning loudly with no regard for who hears him. Harry hums appreciatively as he swallows, opening his mouth to breathe deeply once he pulls back.

Harry sits back, looking up at Louis with a smile on his face and glassy eyes. “Yeah?”

“You,” Louis says, completely wrecked. He tugs at Harry’s collar, because fuck he’s still wearing a shirt. They really are a couple of teenagers, apparently. Harry crawls up the couch clumsily, moving to straddle Louis. He’s so tall that it’s almost uncomfortably awkward, him having to slouch so much to be eye level with Louis, but. It works. “You’re absolutely amazing.”

He punctuates that thought with a proper, sweet kiss to Harry’s lips. Harry kisses him back slowly, a fist on Louis’ chest. “You too,” he whispers against Louis’ lips. “But I kinda feel like you only wanted me for the tattoos.”

Louis rolls his eyes and pinches Harry’s side. “Oh, shut the hell up.”

Harry throws his head back and laughs, and it’s beautiful, honestly, the lines of his neck and the sound of his laughter. He’s just beautiful, all wide eyes and pink lips. Louis feels like sometimes things happen at certain times so that he can meet certain people, he truly believes that, and he thinks that maybe his friends’ tattoo shop is his new lucky spot. Maybe.

“That and those lips of yours,” Louis teasing, leaning forward to kiss him softly, holding him a bit closer and pushing his thumbs into the flesh of Harry’s hips.  

His own lucky spot, indeed.

 

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this in 6 hours, so please excuse any mistakes! come talk to me on [tumblr](http://www.soleilouis.tumblr.com).


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